direction of that deeply amused voice—to see a blonde Adonis staring down at me with a look of mirth lining his face.
“Get out.”
“Luc, the poor girl’s obviously sick and in need of medical attention. Let me—”
“Get out.”
Two words, barked so savagely I feel my jellified muscles tense, ready to take my sick ass running through the door—but no, he must have said it to the others because we’re left alone in the space of mere seconds, the door slamming shut amidst grumbles and what sounds like regret.
For some reason, something I can’t explain, I feel myself bolt up off the sofa, my body all of a sudden wanting flight as those cold, hard eyes stay focused on me, doing strange things to my insides.
“Uh, thanks…um, for helping me? I need to get going,” I breathe, keeping my eyes fixed on his coiled body as I inch my way toward the door.
For whatever reason, embarrassment notwithstanding, because yeah, I’m still vain enough to know that while this man, this…perfect specimen looks like a walking GQ ad, I look like absolute crap—I feel the stirrings of fear and the need to run and keep running till I’m completely clear of him.
I can’t say why, not really, but as I scuttle covertly toward the exit I know, deep down, where my feminine instincts reside, that if I don’t get the hell out of here soon, I’m going to be in way over my head with this guy.
“Stop.”
That one word freezes the blood in my veins, but I fight through the feeling and my continuing dizziness in an effort to get out of here before I do something stupid like tell him how startlingly attractive he is.
That would be…terrible, because, while I’m not a dog, I am definitely just a plain Jane type of woman and so not even close to his league.
“Um, I need to go,” I breathe, feeling my adrenaline spike when my hand closes over the door handle and pushes down. “I have to get to back to work.”
I want to say I manage to turn the handle gracefully and make an elegant escape. Nope. What happens is, I fumble with the handle under my sweaty pam and all but fall out of that office, stumbling to the empty elevator on liquefied legs.
It’s only as I ride the car down, slowing my breaths enough to ease the pounding in my aching skull, that I know why I’ve run so fast. I recognize those startling, penetrating eyes.
They belong to an event in my past that almost destroyed my young heart, an event that set me on the path to self-preservation and the need to keep myself separate from anyone or anything that can hurt me.
Those eyes belong to Lucian Jasper, the love of my girlhood and the same boy—man, who’d broken my heart so callously I still feel the sting of tears when I think of it.
Chapter Two
“Oh my God! What the heck!”
Yeah, I think, dragging my apron over my pounding head and slinking my way to the kitchen door, wishing like hell I can just go home and fall into bed.
At this point I feel like only a good three-day coma can take care of the vile sickness tearing its way through me. After the shocking revelation of exactly who I’d been faced with had finally calmed enough for me to make my stumbling way to my next bus, I’d made the half-assed decision to call Mel, my supervisor at Jasper’s—how could I not know, not even suspect that the company I cleaned for belonged to him ? —and quit.
Yeah, so now, on top of being sick as hell, I’m short a source of much needed income and really not feeling it as far as tonight’s shift goes. But I can’t afford to let Bill fire my ass, so instead of going home, I’m dying over the flat top, praying for the next two hours to speed by.
“Jesus, what the hell happened to you?”
I turn to my potbellied boss and give him the stink eye while keeping an eye on the burger I’m grilling.
“I had to run to work in the rain. I think I caught a cold.”
“That quick?” he asks skeptically. “You’re not on the rag?”
I
“Get out.”
“Luc, the poor girl’s obviously sick and in need of medical attention. Let me—”
“Get out.”
Two words, barked so savagely I feel my jellified muscles tense, ready to take my sick ass running through the door—but no, he must have said it to the others because we’re left alone in the space of mere seconds, the door slamming shut amidst grumbles and what sounds like regret.
For some reason, something I can’t explain, I feel myself bolt up off the sofa, my body all of a sudden wanting flight as those cold, hard eyes stay focused on me, doing strange things to my insides.
“Uh, thanks…um, for helping me? I need to get going,” I breathe, keeping my eyes fixed on his coiled body as I inch my way toward the door.
For whatever reason, embarrassment notwithstanding, because yeah, I’m still vain enough to know that while this man, this…perfect specimen looks like a walking GQ ad, I look like absolute crap—I feel the stirrings of fear and the need to run and keep running till I’m completely clear of him.
I can’t say why, not really, but as I scuttle covertly toward the exit I know, deep down, where my feminine instincts reside, that if I don’t get the hell out of here soon, I’m going to be in way over my head with this guy.
“Stop.”
That one word freezes the blood in my veins, but I fight through the feeling and my continuing dizziness in an effort to get out of here before I do something stupid like tell him how startlingly attractive he is.
That would be…terrible, because, while I’m not a dog, I am definitely just a plain Jane type of woman and so not even close to his league.
“Um, I need to go,” I breathe, feeling my adrenaline spike when my hand closes over the door handle and pushes down. “I have to get to back to work.”
I want to say I manage to turn the handle gracefully and make an elegant escape. Nope. What happens is, I fumble with the handle under my sweaty pam and all but fall out of that office, stumbling to the empty elevator on liquefied legs.
It’s only as I ride the car down, slowing my breaths enough to ease the pounding in my aching skull, that I know why I’ve run so fast. I recognize those startling, penetrating eyes.
They belong to an event in my past that almost destroyed my young heart, an event that set me on the path to self-preservation and the need to keep myself separate from anyone or anything that can hurt me.
Those eyes belong to Lucian Jasper, the love of my girlhood and the same boy—man, who’d broken my heart so callously I still feel the sting of tears when I think of it.
Chapter Two
“Oh my God! What the heck!”
Yeah, I think, dragging my apron over my pounding head and slinking my way to the kitchen door, wishing like hell I can just go home and fall into bed.
At this point I feel like only a good three-day coma can take care of the vile sickness tearing its way through me. After the shocking revelation of exactly who I’d been faced with had finally calmed enough for me to make my stumbling way to my next bus, I’d made the half-assed decision to call Mel, my supervisor at Jasper’s—how could I not know, not even suspect that the company I cleaned for belonged to him ? —and quit.
Yeah, so now, on top of being sick as hell, I’m short a source of much needed income and really not feeling it as far as tonight’s shift goes. But I can’t afford to let Bill fire my ass, so instead of going home, I’m dying over the flat top, praying for the next two hours to speed by.
“Jesus, what the hell happened to you?”
I turn to my potbellied boss and give him the stink eye while keeping an eye on the burger I’m grilling.
“I had to run to work in the rain. I think I caught a cold.”
“That quick?” he asks skeptically. “You’re not on the rag?”
I
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